


Army Dreamers

by anniesburg



Category: Regency Love (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Lord Sutton getting the affection he deserves, Multi, One Shot, Polite Three-way, Polyamory, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniesburg/pseuds/anniesburg
Summary: In which the precise reasons for Lord Sutton's eagerness to grow old with the Grahams' is explored.





	Army Dreamers

**Author's Note:**

> wELL shit. this is probably inaccurate in a lot of ways but i had so many feelings, i just had to. hope you like it!!

You invite anyone to question the movements of your dear, and thankfully male, friend. Lord Sutton is a frequent visitor to the new estate, despite his initial distance that some might consider questionable.

But you never have. Quite the contrary. When asked after it by an inquisitive party, readily you smile and say you’ve never noticed any reservations on his part. Aubrey Sutton has always been a close and mutual confidant of yourself and your husband.

Behind closed doors, the story is decidedly different.

You remember that sunny day in front of your cottage, taking in the sounds of nature as Mr Curtis confessed was his fondness the few times you took him up on his offer to go for a stroll. It was a pleasant feeling, the wind on your face and birdsong in your ear. It was interrupted only by the telling crunch of gravel beneath riding boots.

Lord Sutton was likely aware of the implications behind a gentleman calling on a lady so recently engaged. He kept his distance and you smiled at it. You were sure he didn’t like you.

Until you weren’t sure of that at all.

His confession struck you with unshakeable, smug surprise. Although you imagined he had designs on your dear Mr Graham (the notion of which did not disturb you in the least), hence his jealousy, you did not expect them to extend to you.

But no, he did not fancy you. He loved you, he made it clear. And you found yourself smitten with his disgust for himself, the way he admitted it with such sincere upset. You very much liked being under his skin and promised yourself to do so for as long as you could.

Two years since and you are still very much on his mind. And on other places.

His hips make a nice seat, you suppose as begin to unbutton his waistcoat. Sutton looks debauched already underneath you, his gaze striking and affectionate.

“I had thought, then, that you were a dreadful liar,” you tell him, fiddling with the buttons. He grows impatient, but your instructions for him to keep his hands to himself is still heeded. 

“How so?” He asks. Were you a cruel woman you might comment on how distracted his tone is. 

“Please, Aubrey,” your recent acquisition of his first name feels like a triumph on your tongue. “I was fully convinced that your feelings were simply one last attempt to dissuade my love from pledging himself to me.” 

You lift your eyes and turn them to the before-mentioned love. James Graham, your wedded husband sits in an armchair by the fire with a glass of brandy. In polite company he would be considered undressed, with no jacket or cravat. But not in your company, far from it. For now, he is content to watch.

“Is that not sensible of me to think?” You ask James. Sutton glowers. 

“I must confess, dearest, that it is,” he replies, sipping from his glass. You can see the smile in his eyes plain as day. 

“Am I supposed to applaud your incorrect assumptions, regardless of their alleged sense?” Sutton asks, his voice sounds harsh and you know why. The reason presses itself against your inner thigh. 

“I was merely trying to win that smile of yours, angel.” You concede, leaning forward just enough to kiss him. His eyes close, his head lifting and wordlessly asking to deepen the gesture. You allow him to do so for a moment before pulling away. 

“There is nothing amusing to be found in a woman questioning the truth of my affections.” Sutton says, sounding perhaps less stony now that you’ve not only kissed him but given him a term of endearment to call his own.

“But you were very convincing of your dislike of me.” Is your reply, reaching the end of the buttons. You very carefully open the front of his waistcoat and set your sights on ridding him of his neckwear. 

“That was my intention, anything else---” you cut him off with a second, unexpected kiss.

“You’ve already apologized for any offence I may have taken. Hush and let me do my work.” To your surprise, he obeys you. Nearly.

“How is the view, James?” Aubrey asks with a slight tilt of his head towards the man he’s loved since childhood. 

“Prettier by the minute,” you hear your husband’s reply rather than see it, so focused are you on the knots in the fabric at Sutton’s neck. 

“Certainly not on my account,” Aubrey continues, unable to restrain a quiet noise of contentment as your fingers brush his bare throat. You hear James laugh. 

“Until my wife chooses to disrobe, it is absolutely on your account alone.” Unless you are mistaken, given that the room is bathed only in half-light from the fire, Aubrey’s cheeks colour at James’ penchant for sentiment. 

“I quite agree,” you chime in, the knot under his chin loose enough now to unravel. You do so greedily, attacking his neck with your lips the moment it is exposed. 

“Eager,” Sutton says into your ear, but he kisses your temple and delights in the attention with no further complaints. 

You take fistfuls of his soft, dark hair and tug his head back to gain greater access to where there is a pulse. He’s more free all of a sudden with his noises of pleasure, his lips falling away from your hair.

Sutton looks at Graham with an intensity that the latter knows too well. He merely smiles, content to leave him to his fate at your hands.

“It is unbecoming of a lady to be so rough with her lovers,” Aubrey tells you. His hands which had been up until now idle find your hips. His fists bunch the fabric of your dress and you have to pull away. 

“Be careful, angel,” you hiss, “James had this made for me and it is no one’s place but his to ruin it.” You glance at your husband again. “Should he see fit.” 

“Hm, this looks quite similar to the one that I bought you last month,” Sutton insists. His fingers dig into your skin under the pretence that he is simply feeling the fabric. You know better. 

“And here I thought you better acquainted with fashion.” You reply. “But come, sit up. I can hardly undress you fully on your back.” 

Sutton seems to have no objections to that initially, but you dismount his lap and he sits up with an expression that displays his upset. You smile at him, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and taking care not to wrinkle it as you place it out of the way. His waistcoat is next, discarded with a little more ferocity on his part as you reach behind to untie the front-piece of your gown.

“I’m quite shocked you haven’t asked me to lift my skirt and be done with it, Aubrey.” You say in a mockery of idle conversation as his body’s liberated from fabric. 

He slows his movements, undoing the ties at the neck of his muslin shirt and looking at you with a blush-inducing intensity.

“Why would I ask that of you?” He tugs his shirt over his head in a practiced motion. “I’m of a mind that the female form is the most beautiful thing to behold.” 

You give him a shy smile, standing briefly to let your dress fall around your ankles. Stepping from it, you begin to unlace your stays.

“Yes, you would think that.” You reply, twisting in a most unnatural way and partially betraying your desire to be indecent as quickly as possible. “I have seen your private art collection, after all. Very risqué.” 

James decides to take pity on you, then. How good of him. He sets his brandy glass aside and stands, crossing the room to help as a maid would with undoing the laces at the back of your stays. You turn your head towards him, unable to hide your smile of thanks.

His intentions, however, are soon revealed to be questionable. Sutton holds his shirt in his lap, watching as Graham explores you with wandering hands. You try your best to repress any scandalous noises as your husband caresses your waist and hips. But you’re unable to remain silent when he palms at your breasts and moves towards the tops of your thighs.

You press the back of your head to James’ shoulder, sighing with content and very little shame. Part of you yearns to close your eyes, as a blush very nearly threatens to send you into a fit of embarrassment. But looking at Aubrey, slack-jawed and in awe is much more agreeable.

Without really thinking, you hold out your hand. He rises as if in a daze, his eyes all wide and full of adoration. He stands in front of you, naked from the waist up and eager to touch what Graham has yet to claim.

You put your arms around him, unsure how to avoid favouring either one. The encounter ends quite abruptly when Aubrey presses his chest to yours.

“Good God, I hardly know how you’re able to go about your day with a plank of wood between your breasts.” He speaks loudly, uncaring for he’s quite in love. His brash vocabulary should shock you, but you simply wave your hand and hide a smile. 

“It is most comfortable so long as I remain upright and clothed.”You reply. James makes his presence known again, pulling at the laces with impatience.

“Neither will do at the moment,” he says in your ear. He makes you shiver. Soon, you are free, letting your stays fall at your feet. 

“Are you hearing him, angel?” You ask Sutton, tilting your head with an incomparable smile tugging again at the corners of you mouth. You allow this one. “It must be due to that Fanny Hill novel he read, was it you who lent it to him?” 

“It was not I, much to my displeasure. Another officer did. Was it Hammond, James?” Aubrey shakes his head, stepping over your discarded garments. You hold up your hands, however and prevent him from lifting your chemise.

Graham’s grip tightens at your waist, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

“I believe it was,” he replies. Your laugh sounds equally like a scoff. 

“And here I thought him the picture of a perfect gentleman.” You reply. James gives your rear a decisive squeeze that has you nearly shrieking with surprise. You cover your mouth and look at him apologetically.

“Gentleman or not, my love, you have him to thank for my instruction.” He says, sounding more sure of himself than he ever has before. 

“And what of me? Haven’t I played some role?” Sutton asks, your gaze is called to him so quickly. It’s as if you’re suddenly reminded of what you intended to do prior to Graham’s ministrations. You reach out and begin to unbutton the front of his trousers.

“More than you’ll ever know, Aubrey.” Graham says. He seems intent not to disturb you from your goal a second time. 

“We shall see how the evening progresses, James. He may just discover it, yet.” You mutter, half-lost in concentration. You’re not quite sure if you’re moving at the pace that either man should like, but you pause for a moment to simply feel Aubrey’s evident desire. 

“Am I to your liking, Mrs Graham?” He asks, forward as ever. You decide to bolster that charming ego with a nod. 

“Decidedly yes,” you say, “my goodness, I can’t imagine what about me’s excited you so thoroughly already.” Sutton behaves, daring not to move his hands from his sides as you carefully explore. A flighty sensation makes itself known in your stomach. 

“Is that an attempt to force me to repeat my earlier admission? I am in love with you.” You get a taste, just a small one of Aubrey Sutton’s beautiful smile. For all your demands and insistence that he remain on his best behaviour, he’s flustered you. 

“I love you, too.” You say, unsure how he will respond. He knows, of course, it isn’t the first time you’ve said it. But the look of momentary panic on his face that fateful first time was telling. He’s unused to wanting your love, anyone’s love so deeply. 

The response is more mediated this time, he moans and pushes his hips forward unabashedly into your hand. He’s shameless, wanton in his expression of what you do to him.

“Really, Lord Sutton,” you chime. The use of his title behind closed doors holds a special place in his carnal heart. “it is most unbecoming, the way you’re carrying on. What will the staff think if you’re overheard?” But still you touch him over his trousers, tutting in disappointment when he responds only with a guttural groan. 

“My love, you mustn’t be cruel.” James says in your ear. Despite his amused insistence, you smirk at the lord coming undone beneath your hands. 

“He’s been quite cruel, wouldn’t you say?” But you rescind your efforts and return to the prior task of freeing him from confines. The buttons are undone quickly in comparison to your earlier pace.

You take his cock in your hand, admiring its length. It’s a bit on the thin side, you must confess, but surely satisfying with a slight upward curve. Sutton looks smug.

“My compliments, sir.” You smile and waste very little time in bestowing on him a more intimate version of your original intentions. But, by design, it isn’t to last. You seek to rid him of the rest of his clothes and press for his help. 

Graham lets you go, content again to watch as you guide Aubrey back towards the bed.

“Where were we, do you remember?” You ask him. He’s silent in the face of his own vulnerability, looking at you with unparalleled desire. Very good. “I think I was about to have you?” 

“Christ,” he exhales, sitting down on the bed when the backs of his knees hit the mattress. “James---” Aubrey starts. “Do come here.” 

“As you wish,” your husband takes his place on the bed, providing a place for Sutton to rest his head when you urge him to lie back. 

With a swift, single motion you discard your chemise. You’re naked with your back to the firelight. James’ gasps, of course, because he’s delightful. Aubrey gives your front an appraising look, like he’d very much like to touch every inch.

You’re astride Sutton’s hips again in no time, grinning like a cat. And now you’re perfectly able to lean forward and kiss him as long as you like. Easily, you do. His mouth is hot, all teeth and insistence.

“I don’t think our angel’s accustomed to being kept waiting,” you say to James whose grin turns as devilish as yours. He’s already petting Sutton’s head but your teasing gives his courage a second wind. He tugs on the dark hair between his fingers.

Lifting yourself up onto your knees, you deny your own want to tease out the experience. A woman has needs as well, you’re aching between your thighs for what is terribly improper. 

The head of his cock nudges your clitoris and the pleasure is sharper than you expect. You gasp, guiding him inside you with a careful hand. It’s a slow process, one that leaves poor Sutton in a similar state of disbelief. But he’s quicker to recover than you are, grasping at whatever flesh is within his reach. 

His hands seek out your hips again with a force, taking with a near-shocking grip that speaks of his experience. If you were in possession of a bit more composure, you’re sure you could more effectively chastise him. 

But for a few moments you are utterly speechless, adjusting to the way he fills you. It’s markedly different from how James does, it’s unfamiliar and not wholly pleasurable.

Sutton’s expectant handling of you changes when he retreats from selfishness. He’s most accustomed to it, you’re sure but his expression turns to that of concern when you stay quiet. 

“Mrs Graham?” He asks, he calls you that because he knows it makes you happy. And it does, you shake your head quickly and give a tight smile. 

“I am well, truly,” you say, “a moment, please. I may have acted too quickly.” Sutton looks near-stricken. 

“Of course, I---” he feels guilty, you can see it on his face. For all his cold demeanour and uncaring voracious sexual appetite, he fears he may have pressured you to haste. 

James understands that isn’t so. He touches Sutton’s neck with careful fingers. 

“Help her, Aubrey. You know how.” He alone remains calm, collected. If you were unwell, he would know. 

Sutton seems hesitant for the first time in the years you’ve known him. But his hand does not shake as it leaves your hip, finding the place between your thighs that sends you reeling. 

His middle finger circles your clit with a deftness that even James cannot attest to. Your husband is sweet, attentive and unaware of his strength. But Aubrey's attentions are feather-light, making you mewl. His confidence quickly returns. 

“That’s it,” he says. He watches your face, your eyes that close with an expression that relays his relief. He’s done nothing to harm the woman he loves and nothing to upset her husband. “you needn’t rush, my darling. Such things are not meant to be painful.” 

“Ah, but our dearest is so greedy.” James knocks the rest of the tension asunder with his jovial tone. The atmosphere lightens and you open your eyes to find your men smiling at you. 

“That I am,” you reply, “and I believe your dearest is ready to begin.” 

“If it pleases the lady,” Sutton says but one hand remains where it is, teasing at the little bundle of nerves. 

As embarrassed as you are by your own forcefulness after establishing a talent for teasing, the evening appears more than salvageable. You begin with slow rotations of your hips, gentle motions that feel familiar. 

Reaching out, you brace a hand against James’ shoulder, looking at him with a giddy and intense heat in your eyes. He need not ask how you find the experience of another man’s cock buried in you, but you speak all the same. 

“He’s quite satisfactory, isn’t he?” You ask. Your husband grins widely. 

“I am well acquainted with his assets, my love. Aubrey is quite satisfactory, indeed.” Your moan sounds closer to a breathy giggle, but Sutton underneath you is embarrassed. The noise he makes at Graham’s allegations is nothing short of flustered and masculine. 

It gets you imagining all sorts of things, your husband in the same position as you several years before you’d known of him. But whereas others may feel betrayal or disgust, the thought alights your senses. 

“Could I prevail upon you to demonstrate your acquaintance in the future?” You sigh, lifting your hips with more urgency. Your movements are less akin to gentle rocking. 

James leans in, he kisses you softly and tells you that he would be delighted. You believe him. 

But Sutton grows restless, his hips arching up to meet yours. You hiss and gasp, not in pain but in surprise and genuine adoration of the feeling. He stills so quickly and you find yourself smiling down at him. 

“Please, angel, it’s quite all right. I’m adjusted now and you may---” he needs no more encouragement, taking it upon himself to repeat the gesture of thrusting into you as readily as you lower yourself. 

He’s still touching you, James is a solid thing to lean against as that all-encompassing heat becomes unfamiliarly pleasant. Aubrey’s fingers dig into your hip with such a ferocity, what if they leave bruises? Oh, that is quite an exciting thought. 

For all your desire to command him, the thought of his marks hiding under your chemise, just out of sight to everyone outside of this room--- it’s endearing. You could learn to love it. 

“Oh, Aubrey---” you sigh, your voice a pitch higher than usual. Your heart thunders against your ribcage, it reminds you of a rabbit’s. 

He says your name in the half-light, doesn’t just call you Mrs Graham. You’re happy to hear it, too, it has its own charms. Sutton sounds impassioned, happy to lie under you as you guide him to satisfaction. 

“James---” you sound different, near-undone. He’s still petting Aubrey’s hair, but you watch him free a hand to clasp your own at his shoulder. “I think I’m going to---” 

Ending the sentence doesn’t even enter your head. There’s a slight lifting sensation that makes your toes go a bit numb and the incessant heat breaks. The rhythmic rise and fall of your chest becomes more erratic and your hips momentarily still. Through the haze of an intense climax, Aubrey continues as he has although the fox-grin is unmistakable and sharp. 

You bite down on your lip to contain a sinfully loud noise. As much as you would like to fall down at his side, effectively ending the coupling you’re aware of how cruel that would be. And cruel as Sutton is, he would never deprive you of anything. He takes his hand away but you remain upright, a bit shaky and more in need of James for support. You receive it, your husband keeps his warm hands on yours to steady you. 

Aubrey is still quite attentive, rocking in you more gently and the several moments where you’re too overcome to move pass without any complaint. He doesn’t prevail upon you to return to the act of lovemaking, but you do on your own terms. He’s satisfied you, now it’s your turn to do the same for him. 

His orgasm is a markedly different sight. You’re still becoming used to the sensation, you suppose, after a lifetime of discouragement from the act. Sutton--- it pains you to think about but you understand that he’s lived Fanny Hill. But he’s still chosen James and yourself. You look at him with so much love in your eyes, caressing his cheek when you’re sure that leaving Graham’s support will not result in your pitching forward. 

“Oh, I do love you, angel,” you say. Your smile is kinder, perhaps a bit tired. It doesn’t take much more than that. Unceremoniously, he pushes you off of him. It’s undignified, unladylike and you fall onto your side as you wished to with a shout of surprised laughter. 

Sutton comes on your thighs, your arms wrap around him out of instinct. His volume control has greatly shifted from what you have been told, shying away from guttural yells and instead sounding more constricted. He lies still for a moment when he’s done. 

“James,” he sounds as shaken as you do, “you have been so neglected.” Your husband shakes his head. 

“Next time, dearest.” He promises and you grin at him over the shoulder of the only other man you hold in your heart. 

James wastes no time in taking his place at Aubrey’s back. You’re certain that next time will in fact be in only an hour or so, but for now you need your rest. Sutton appears to as well, his chin fits so well into the curve of your neck and he speaks very little. It is perhaps the best indication that he enjoyed himself very much.


End file.
